


Fanfare!

by calamitylink



Category: ATEEZ (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Cheerleaders, Frottage, Getting Together, M/M, Making Out, Mild Hurt/Comfort, NATIONALS BABEY, Rivals to Lovers, Snowed In, and there was only one bed, rivals!sansang, theyre all prep jocks, yeo is a bit of an ass at first
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-29
Updated: 2020-12-29
Packaged: 2021-03-10 22:22:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,211
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28404681
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/calamitylink/pseuds/calamitylink
Summary: Perhaps even more notorious than their teams duking it out for gold every year is Yeosang’s ongoing feud withAurora’s captain, San. From competing to see who wins more ribbons at cheer camp to who can yell louder while doing backflips to who can get a crowd on their feet the fastest, Yeosang’s cheer life practicallyrevolvesaround San.And Yeosang can’t wait to wipe the floor with him at nationals this year.
Relationships: Choi San/Kang Yeosang
Comments: 20
Kudos: 96





	Fanfare!

**Author's Note:**

  * For [0KKULTiC](https://archiveofourown.org/users/0KKULTiC/gifts).



> AAAAAA happy late secret santa @0kkultic!!!! i chose your snowed in rivals to lovers prompt, though so many of them sparked joy?? so here it is, i hope you like it!!
> 
> for clarity:  
> Horizon: Yeosang (capt), Wooyoung, Seonghwa, Hongjoong  
> Aurora: San (capt), Yunho, Mingi, Jongho

“ _Nationals weekend, baby!”_

—is the first thing Yeosang hears upon waking up, the second being their combined _oof_ as Wooyoung launches himself onto Yeosang’s bed, knocking the wind out of his lungs.

“Young-ah, get off me if you want to live,” Yeosang groans from under the covers, wiggling in a valiant attempt to dislodge Wooyoung, who won’t give up his impression of a cuddly octopus.

“I don’t think so,” Wooyoung sing-songs, an audible smile in his voice. “We’ve been waiting for this for way too long. I’m _so_ keyed up right now.”

And Yeosang supposes that’s fair, because as the fog of sleep clears from his mind, his nerves also rise in anticipation. Team _Horizon_ had been training nearly a year for the biggest cheer competition in all of South Korea, earning their spot through two prior rounds of qualifiers and a grueling summer cheer camp. They had fought for their place among the best teams in the industry, despite a rocky start when they’d barely squeaked by in the first qualifier when someone sprained an ankle during the performance. 

As captain, Yeosang feels somewhat responsible for their fears and anxieties, but comforts himself marginally knowing he was their rock, putting the team above all else in undeniable dedication (even when his grades at university started to slip). He’s just grateful that everyone trusted him enough to rely on him, to give it their all and share their passion.

“Did you fall asleep on me again?” Wooyoung whines from above him, jostling him slightly.

Yeosang only grunts in response.

“You’re no fun,” Wooyoung pouts, slipping off the bed. Yeosang revels in his newly-uncrushed lungs for a few moments before leaving his warm blanket cocoon, shivering in the winter morning air.

“Did you at least turn on the heater?” Yeosang sniffs, rubbing at his arms. Wooyoung snorts.

“There’s no point, we’ll be gone in like thirty minutes anyway.” 

So Yeosang spends ten of those minutes grumbling while getting dressed, and the rest preparing for the weekend trip, going through his morning routine with no small amount of shivers and shoving the rest of his essentials in his suitcase.

By the time they’re ready to go, it’s only a couple minutes past their allotted getting ready time, which Yeosang counts as a win; but crunching through snow slush on the way to the bus stop slowed them down considerably, and by the looks of it, the rest of their team as well. They greet their coach, Eden, who appears stressed as ever, and settle in to wait for the rest of the team. Thankfully, though, everyone shows up more or less on time, and amongst a collective sigh of relief getting into the heated bus, they depart for their hotel.

It’s an uneventful drive up the coast, but one that has the team ooh-ing and aah-ing at the beautiful clear skies and sparkling water. Yeosang knows that if the bus were to stop, Wooyoung would be the first one out the doors and into the water, despite the temperatures being nearly freezing this time of year. For a moment, he envisions a life as a swimmer, making a home in the water the same way he has on the mat as a gymnast. 

He’s pulled out of his thoughts by a tap on the shoulder, their coach holding a few papers and beckoning him toward two empty seats. Yeosang hazards a glance toward a sleeping Wooyoung before slipping out quietly and joining Eden, the bus significantly quieter with half the team asleep.

“So. Let’s talk scorecards,” Eden begins, right down to business as usual. Yeosang peeks over curiously, because they’d already gone over their scorecard from the last qualifier as a team, but Eden isn’t only holding theirs.

“I have the scores of everyone who made it into the finals here,” Eden starts, holding up the top paper. “If we see anything particularly lacking or outstanding, we’ll know what to expect,” he mutters, starting at the top with the “showmanship” category.

And so they go through the scorecards of their top competitors, noting that team _Stealer_ was exemplary in technique, while team _MIROH_ excelled in showmanship. But of course, _Horizon_ ’s biggest rival and the only one to beat them in the second qualifier, was team _Aurora._

_Horizon_ and _Aurora_ had a long history of rivalry, belonging to top universities in the same region. Every year they make nationals, and every year they battle for the top spot amongst other teams that may as well not exist with how intensely they aim to beat each other. Yeosang is sure that Wooyoung, Seonghwa, and Hongjoong would call it friendly competition; but as captain, if he didn’t take it at least a little too seriously, is he really doing his job?

But perhaps even more notorious than their teams duking it out for gold every year is Yeosang’s ongoing feud with _Aurora_ ’s captain, Choi San. From competing to see who wins more ribbons at cheer camp to who can yell louder while doing backflips to who can get a crowd on their feet the fastest, Yeosang’s cheer life practically _revolves_ around San. When Yeosang was elected to fill the role of captain this year, he found that San had been as well. When Yeosang stepped off the mat after the performance where Gahyeon had sprained her ankle, San and his team were there, sending pitying looks and sympathetic glances that made Yeosang’s blood absolutely _roil._

Seonghwa likes to joke that Yeosang has “San-blinders” on when team _Aurora_ is around.

Yeosang does not dignify that with a response.

“There’s no way we’ll beat _Aurora_ in tumbling, but at least we’ll be able to earn a higher score now that Gahyeon’s ankle is healed,” Eden muses, snapping Yeosang back to attention. He makes a noise of agreement, trailing over _Horizon_ and _Aurora_ ’s scorecards side-by-side. 

_Horizon_ scored low where _Aurora_ scored high. _Aurora’s_ lowest-scoring bracket was _Horizon’s_ highest. Yeosang supposes that the push and pull is pretty representative of their teams as a whole.

“I guess it’s too much to ask that they drop a stunt in the final, right?” Yeosang asks only half in jest, scratching at his eyebrow. Eden huffs in agreement.

“Yeah, it’d take a miracle, but stranger things have happened,” Eden sighs. “We’ll just have to get a good practice in today and do the best we can for ourselves tomorrow.” He gives Yeosang a lopsided grin, before standing and stretching. “Now go wake everyone up, we’re almost here.”

Yeosang glances up in surprise, the ride having passed almost too quickly. The scenery no longer boasts the same clear skies and calm water, instead having darkened considerably due to the angry looking storm clouds looming overhead. Yeosang suppresses a groan at the snow already blanketing every surface, surely making their upcoming practice a cold and slippery one.

He goes about waking everyone up, those rousing into the world of the waking already grimacing at the snow outside. He pats Seonghwa’s head affectionately from where he and Hongjoong had fallen asleep on each other, leaving them to straighten out the cricks in their necks, and finally plops back down next to Wooyoung, who immediately snuggles into his side. 

“Had a good chat with Eden-ssi?” Wooyoung asks, still half asleep, and Yeosang will never admit how adorable Wooyoung is like this. He rubs his cheek against Wooyoung’s hair.

“Mm, just talking about our competitors,” he answers, feeling his own eyelids droop from the warm weight against his side.

But before he can let sleep take him, he’s startled by a loud gust of wind and sharp _crack_ of a branch snappingfrom outside. Yeosang watches the tree branch meet the windshield of a parked car, glass shattering and its panic alarm blaring. There’s stunned silence in the bus for a couple seconds, before someone miserably pipes up:

“We have to practice in _that?”_

Eden sighs.

“I’ll see if we can find an indoor area to rent. If not, there’s no use risking extra injury,” he reasons, going to work on his phone. Yeosang is grateful to have an understanding coach; he doesn’t even want to think of someone in a toss getting blown away in the gathering storm. “They’re predicting it won’t get much worse than this, though, so nothing should be closed down,” he says distractedly, scrolling through his phone. 

When the bus parks, Yeosang nearly rolls his eyes at the state of disrepair their shitty motel is in, the bright neon sign flickering pathetically outside. Funding for cheer? In this economy? The university doesn’t seem to think so.

“We’ll be doing rooms a little differently this year,” Eden begins, bringing out their usual paper straws for drawing. “I’m going to be frank, the university cut our funding this year by a,” he inhales, “significant amount, so we’ll be doubling up on rooms. And we have an odd one out, so one of you will have to stay with a member of the other team that’s arriving later in the day.”

Yeosang fights to keep his face neutral amongst the scattering of mumbled protests from his teammates, but this news really is a shock to him as well. How bad must the budget cuts have been in order to not even have enough money for lodging?

“You all need uniforms, and we had to pay the fees for competing, and we definitely had to get here, so I figured, hey! You all like each other! Doubling up should be no problem—”

“I’ll room with the other team,” Yeosang blurts before he can stop it, if not to end Eden’s horribly self conscious rambling then to shoulder his duty as captain and take one for the team. Wooyoung whips around to look at him with sad puppy eyes, and Yeosang almost retracts his statement.

“Thanks, Yeo-ah,” Eden smiles, looking immensely relieved. “The rest of you, go ahead and draw straws.”

Straws are drawn, and everyone darts off the bus in pairs to the safety of their rooms. Yeosang jogs to his as well, unlocking the door before kicking it open and wrestling his things inside. There’s only a single queen bed, which should be fine, he’s shared beds with people before, so he claims a side by moving his suitcase toward it and sticking his little good luck plush on the pillow. He kills time in Wooyoung and Siyeon’s room, inviting Seonghwa and Hongjoong over to play card games, sharing snacks and cozying up with the heater on.

Glancing outside the window, he vaguely registers that another bus has pulled into the lot, dropped off its passengers, and left, but he’s too cozy laughing with his friends to want to greet the stranger that must be in his room by now. It’s only when they all get a text from Eden (found a gym to practice in. be ready to go by 1) that they decide to call it, packing up and heading off to their own rooms to change.

As he approaches his room, Yeosang thumbs his keycard anxiously. Maybe the stranger won’t even be there. Maybe they’ll be in the shower and Yeosang can slip in and out without them even knowing. But as it turns out, when he closes the door against the chill outside, the heater is blessedly on and someone is moving around on the other side of the bed. So Yeosang kicks off his boots inside, squaring his shoulders in preparation to meet—

Choi Fucking San.

No, nah, nope, he must have the wrong room number, he’ll just turn around and—

“Yeosang-ssi?” a surprised voice asks, and Yeosang bites back a groan because yeah, that’s definitely San’s voice.

He would have been fine with sharing a room with someone from _Stealer_ or _MIROH._ Hell, even anyone else from _Aurora_ he could deal with; gentle giants Yunho or Mingi, or even their powerhouse base Jongho. But this? San coming toward him with an excited smile like they’re _friends?_ Yeosang can’t deal with it.

“San-ssi,” he responds flatly, wincing internally at how cold and impersonal his voice sounds. San looks taken aback as well, but he quickly schools his face.

“I guess we’re sharing a room then?” San tries, smiling a bit more hesitantly this time. 

Yeosang blinks.

This is not the San he knows.

Where is the San that scowls right back at him before they compete at cheer camp? The annoying San, the one who will rile him up with light taunts and jabs when they see each other at competitions? Apparently that San is gone for now, as the one standing in front of Yeosang is almost… sweet. But he can’t let his guard down, Yeosang reminds himself; maybe he’s acting all nice now so that when Yeosang trusts him, San will cut up his uniform while he’s sleeping, or something. Yeosang clears his throat.

“Um. Yeah,” he responds eloquently, having to look away from San’s stupid hopeful face. “I have practice in a bit, so…” he trails off, hoping San will get the hint and leave him alone. 

“Oh. Okay, yeah, I think we’re practicing later, too,” San tells him, moving away and back toward his side of the bed. Yeosang almost snorts at the ‘ _I think._ ’

The air is awkward as Yeosang digs through his suitcase to find practice clothes, San taking in a breath as though he wants to say something a couple times, but, Yeosang supposes, never finds the words. Yeosang slips into the bathroom without glancing in San’s direction, but feels eyes on his back until he closes the door, sagging against it.

_What the fuck._

He’s been trying to keep his spirits up, but this day has officially gone from bad to worse. All that’s left is for San to sabotage him somehow, then he won’t be able to perform tomorrow, and—

He has got to get a grip.

After changing, he re-enters the room, eyes traitorously seeking out San, who looks up from his phone so quickly it almost seems guilty. San offers him a half-smile, but Yeosang looks away, electing to search for his winter scarf instead. He can’t find it, because of course he can’t, and mutters to himself as he starts frustratedly pulling out clothes. By the time all the contents of his suitcase are on the floor, he realizes he never packed it, and envisions it hanging happily off his chair back at the apartment.

“Do you want to use mine?” comes a tentative question from the bane of his existence. 

“No!” Yeosang snaps, too harsh, some mean, twisted part of his brain reveling in the way San goes wide-eyed. “I don’t want anything having to do with you,” he seethes, and immediately regrets the words.

“Holy shit,” San mutters, looking as though Yeosang had just slapped him in the face. “You really hate me. You really hate me? I thought it was just an act,” he says pitifully, and Yeosang’s blood runs cold with the spectacular realization that he’s just fucked everything up.

“San, I’m—” he starts, cutting off abruptly because everything’s too confusing; it’s too much how San will let years of a one-sided rivalry roll off his back while Yeosang is stuck in the headspace of their ongoing feud.

“I get it,” San bites, turning his back to Yeosang. “Have a good practice.”

Yeosang stays stunned for a moment longer, eventually shrugging on his coat and leaving without a word.

At practice, Yeosang thinks only of San. He still hits his jumps and stunts, the movements etched well into his muscles, but his mind checked out the moment he left San in their room. He doesn’t tell anyone who his roommate is, doesn’t say much of anything despite the worried looks his friends keep sending him. He just needs to think.

Is San a good guy? Obviously the answer to that is yes. Yeosang sees his compassion every year at cheer camp in the way he’ll so readily offer help to anyone who needs it, sees it in the way he always uplifts his team even before he was captain, and it wasn’t his responsibility to do so. San is also always the first one on the turf, and the last one off, his dedication rivaling the likes of Yeosang’s own. San really is a special type of guy, he decides, even if he doesn’t ever seem to direct his kindness toward Yeosang.

But he now knows it’s all been a misunderstanding. San was acting like a menace to Yeosang when other people were around because that’s what Yeosang wanted him to be. The small part of his brain that wants to preserve his pride whispers that this can’t be right, that San hates Yeosang just as fervently as he is hated, but Yeosang forces himself to see things differently.

Does he really hate San?

Yeosang decides to be honest with himself for the first time in years, and resolves to return to their room armed with an apology.

After practice, when they’re all sweaty and worn out and assured in their abilities, Eden pulls Yeosang aside.

“You seemed off today. Is there something wrong?” he asks, and while Yeosang appreciates the concern, he doesn’t think this is something Eden should help with.

“Sort of,” he starts honestly. “The person I’m sharing a room with ended up being Choi San,” he grimaces, now more embarrassed at his own actions than actually repulsed by the idea. “And I think… we have a lot of things to talk about.”

Eden only smiles something small, a little proud, before he ruffles Yeosang’s sweaty hair and nods.

Yeosang rehearses an apology in his head all the way back to the motel, only stopping to reassure Wooyoung that he’s okay and will text him later. He approaches the door, heart in his throat, but when it opens, San is gone. For a moment he panics, thinking he’s gone to sleep in someone else’s room and he’ll never get a chance to talk to him again, but calms as he remembers that _Aurora_ is practicing too. The wind outside is a bit worrying though, Yeosang thinks, as the window rattles dangerously.

He eventually figures there’s no use dwelling on things he can’t change, and settles for a hot shower while he waits. When he gets out, San still isn’t back, which is both shocking and horrifying to him as a winter storm warning comes through on his phone. In the next couple of seconds, though, the door slams open and San stumbles in, startling Yeosang into an undignified screech.

San wrestles the door shut, the small pile of snow that had blown in already melting on the warm carpet. They stare each other down for a couple of seconds before San turns to toe off his boots, still shivering slightly.

“San, I want—”

“Save it,” he snaps tiredly, then adds on as an afterthought, “Sorry for cutting you off. I’m not in the mood.”

And Yeosang is too stunned to do anything but watch San silently gather some clothes and shut himself in the bathroom, the water starting soon after. This will be harder than he thought.

But that’s okay, he thinks, perching on the bed. San doesn’t have to accept his apology, but he won’t sleep tonight until San has at least heard it.

After reading another text from Eden (blizzard coming thru. stay in ur rooms or else. sorry we couldnt get you guys dinner), Yeosang pulls out what snacks he has left in his suitcase in preparation to share them in a sad sort of dinner with San. Except, after the water shuts off, San doesn’t come out of the bathroom. Yeosang eyes the door worriedly for a moment before his heart breaks hearing faint sniffles. He should have known better than to leave San like that earlier. San is too sensitive, has too much love in his heart to hate _anyone_.

He hesitates going to the door, wondering if it’s even his place to comfort San, but ultimately decides to check on him. He knocks gently, resting his forehead against the door.

“Are you okay?” he calls softly, hoping San will trust him with the real answer.

A sniff. “Yes.”

And that’s all he gets.

Yeosang exhales, a soft woosh of breath, and gears up to lay down his pride.

“Listen, San, I— you don’t have to say anything but please listen, okay?” he asks, letting some nervousness slip into his voice. “If you want me to stop, just say, and I’ll leave you alone.” When he doesn’t get a response, but still hears San’s soft sniffles on the other side of the door, he takes that as a go-ahead. 

“I wanted to apologize… for my behavior earlier, and for the past three years. I wasn’t aware it wasn’t an act for you, I’ve just been… severely misunderstanding.” Yeosang closes his eyes, hand coming up to rest on the door. “It seems like you had kind of a shitty day without me adding to it, and I regret that,” he swallows thickly, “a lot.”

He hears a muffled sob from the other side of the door, and fights to keep his own tears at bay.

“So, I’m sorry. And I don’t hate you,” he adds, his mouth twitching up at the corner despite the tears that have escaped. “I may have thought I did before, but it was only, I think, a misplaced sense of admiration,” he laughs wetly. “And if—”

San wrenches the door open, and kisses him full on the mouth.

As far as kisses go, it’s kind of awful. They’re both crying, San pushed their mouths together a little too hard, and Yeosang wasn’t expecting it, but he feels _right_ in San’s arms, like it would be so easy to make a home there, to melt into his embrace.

San jerks away with a gasp.

“I— I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to— without your consent—” he rambles, fresh tears pooling.

Yeosang shushes him lightly, drawing closer again.

“It’s okay,” he soothes, and they stand together, embracing in the doorway for a few minutes while their heartbeats return to normal and the wind howls on outside. San’s hair is still dripping wet, but Yeosang tucks his face into his neck anyway, feeling San’s arms tighten around him in turn. It’s nice, and Yeosang may or may not admit to dozing off while standing because of a warm comforting hug. It seems they’ve both needed this.

“So,” he starts, drawing back only enough to be able to look San in the eye. “Are we, good?” he asks hesitantly, delighting in San’s little chuckle.

“I’m just as lost as you are,” San tells him, the open honesty in his eyes knocking the breath out of Yeosang’s lungs.

“Okay, then how about this,” Yeosang starts, “how do you feel about me?”

And San laughs at that, full-bodied and _beautiful_ , stunning Yeosang into releasing his own small giggle.

“Are you _really_ asking me that right now?” San asks between laughs, “After I just kissed you?”

“ _Okay,_ okay, that’s fair,” Yeosang concedes. “I guess that means I’ll have to go first,” he smiles, lowering his voice to a murmur.

“I want to be really clear that I’m an idiot.” San snorts. “It’s true,” Yeosang insists, “I’m too competitive and too protective of my team, and you were… a threat. You didn’t deserve all the shit I threw at you,” he says, pouring every ounce of sincerity he can into the words. San’s face is unreadable.

“And I’m not asking for your forgiveness right now, but maybe one day if—”

“Yeosang-ah,” San calls, eyes melting into fondness. “Of course I forgive you.” He brushes a thumb across Yeosang’s cheek, Yeosang feeling his face go up in flames. “Of course I do.”

Yeosang doesn’t think he’s met anyone with more love to give.

He takes a moment to gauge San, but doesn’t find any insincerity. He nods, satisfied.

“Now, do you want some dinner?” He asks, motioning over to his pathetic snack pile, and San laughs again.

“Yeah, I’m starving,” he smiles, detangling himself from Yeosang, who shivers immediately. “But look! I brought two cup ramen, this plus your chex mix and gummy bears practically makes a full meal, right?” he asks, and Yeosang is dangerously close to risking it all for him.

So they use the motel’s shitty coffee machine for hot water, soaking the noodles while they open the snack bags, disagreeing on which chex shape is objectively the best, but making up for it by agreeing on gummy bear flavors. In some small way, it feels like growth.

“Why did you start seeing me as a threat?” San asks innocently, going to take a big slurp of noodles.

Yeosang sighs, pretending to think.

Honestly, he knows the answer to this, replays the moment in his mind perhaps too often to be healthy. But San doesn’t need to know that.

“It was, I think, cheer camp two years ago that started it,” Yeosang starts, gaze skittering off to the corner of the room. San nods. Freshman year, this much he knows. “It was after you landed this one really hard tumbling pass that I noticed you, and when I learned you didn’t have any formal gymnastics training,” Yeosang scoffs fondly, “how could I not?”

San raises his eyebrows. “Really? I don’t even remember it that well,” he admits, reaching for the chex.

San doesn’t have to remember it well, Yeosang thinks. Burned into his memory, Yeosang knows it was a front punch tuck through to roundoff, two back handsprings to whip double full layout.

But again.

San doesn’t need to know.

“Yeah,” Yeosang agrees, clearing his throat. “Something pretty difficult. So, how did you get into cheer?”

And dinner progresses much the same, asking each other questions about cheer, and questions about life that make it seem a little date-like. As Yeosang learns more about San, he finds himself taken with the way his eyes crinkle when he laughs, the way he gestures wildly with his hands to get a point across, how his voice betrays his passion for whatever he’s talking about. They sit and talk long after all the food is gone, until their eyelids start to droop and Yeosang can name San’s third grade teacher.

He checks his phone for the time and sees a text in the group chat from Eden (storm should pass by midnight or so. roads should be plowed by tomrw morning, nationals still on), and one from Wooyoung asking if he’s okay, and he responds to both before standing. San looks up at him from his own phone, hard blinking the sleepiness from his eyes, and Yeosang makes the executive decision that it’s bedtime.

Before he knows what he’s doing, he’s tugging on San’s hands, leading him back toward the bed. San flops down face first, groaning something about his nose, and Yeosang laughs as he manhandles San to turn over. Then, apparently because his self control doesn't exist when it comes to San, he leans down and gives his nose a small peck.

San’s eyes fly wide open, lips pushed out into an adorable pout of disbelief. Yeosang can’t help but laugh at San’s reaction, looking away shyly when San smiles.

“You missed,” San whispers, and Yeosang turns to see sharp eyes watching for his reaction, waiting to see what he’ll do, hopeful, hopeful.

And Yeosang smiles, feeling the familiar heat of a challenge rising in his gut, and refuses to be outdone.

Their second kiss starts gently, tentatively, but evolves into something firmer, more assured as Yeosang settles himself partially on top of San. Yeosang parts his lips easily, San making a small noise of surprise into his mouth.

It’s almost shockingly easy to be with San, Yeosang finds, moving to straddle his hips. They balance each other in a way that has Yeosang’s nerves singing, in a way that already makes him want to settle in for the long term. But when San sucks his tongue into his mouth obscenely, Yeosang thinks he might be justified in feeling this way. And San is delightfully receptive to his touches, twisting and shuddering as Yeosang works his hands up and under his shirt. 

“Okay, wait, pause,” San breaks off, panting. Yeosang removes his hands immediately. “No, that’s okay, you can— yeah,” he says, getting comfortable as Yeosang puts them back. “Just, how far did you want to go? I don’t want to assume, ah, anything,” San mumbles.

This sweet boy will be the death of him.

“Well,” Yeosang drawls, “I don’t make a habit of getting railed at competitions, so I don’t have anything we’d need anyway,” he laments, delighting in the way San flushes. “Anything is fine, but I’m,” he laughs, “ _ridiculously_ hard right now.”

“Then is this okay?” San asks, grabbing Yeosang’s hips and _grinding._

Yeosang is frankly embarrassed at the strangled sound that leaves his mouth, moaning in tandem with San as he does it again, and again. He returns to San’s mouth, harsh breaths and choked off moans passing between them as Yeosang rides San’s clothed dick like his life depends on it.

“Wait, let me,” Yeosang breathes, shoving down both of their sleep pants and wrapping a hand around them.

“ _Fuck,_ Yeosang, I’m not gonna last,” San grits out, sounding genuinely remorseful. But Yeosang thinks it’s a really good thing San feels that way, cause this is the most turned on he’s ever been in his life.

“Me neither,” Yeosang groans, then spits directly onto their hard lengths.

San vaguely looks like he’s having an out of body experience, but pulls it together enough to rock up into Yeosang’s hand, bringing up his own hand to cover what Yeosang can’t reach.

“Been wanting this for so long,” San surprises him by saying. “You’re so hot, _god.”_

Yeosang huffs a sharp laugh on a particularly filthy grind.

“Of course, _hah,_ I’m hot,” he counters the best he can. “I’m a cheerleader.”

And that was worth it for the way San looks like he doesn’t know whether he wants to laugh or nut immediately, so Yeosang counts it as a win. He’s getting close, so he leans down so that he’s moaning more or less directly into San’s ear, who whines and bucks his hips faster.

“Coming, _Sangie_ , I’m—” San tenses up and spills over his hand and sleep shirt, and Yeosang doesn’t have the presence of mind to be guilty about it as he jerks himself a couple more times and does the same, holding himself from collapsing into the cum puddle.

They calm down for a couple of seconds, before Yeosang leans down to press a long, slow kiss to San’s mouth. San smiles into it, and Yeosang’s heart melts.

They clean up, do their nightly routines, and end up back in bed (San having to fetch an extra shirt), cuddled up to each other. Maybe they still have a long way to go, and maybe it will be a pain breaking this to their teams, but for now, Yeosang keeps his wonderful new boyfriend sheltered from the world for just a little longer.

One he can’t _wait_ to support at nationals tomorrow.

**Author's Note:**

> *jazz hands* tadaaaa
> 
> i hope you enjoyed!! it was pretty amazing getting to drop all my cheer knowledge at once, and oh, i absolutely do not snow, so thanks lumi for being my snow expert and if there are big inaccuracies, sorry ;u;
> 
> but come scream at me on twt @calamiteez!!! especially cheerteez, man do i have some headcanons
> 
> AND once again @0kkultic i really hope you enjoyed!! merry late festivus <3


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